Purely Alphabetical
by cabintardlock
Summary: A collection of Sherlock stories, each one with a different word as a prompt, I used a word generator on each letter of the alphabet. Most are short and include angst, romance, humor and some pure fluff. They range from Johnlock to Sherlolly to Kidlock to Unilock to parodies to gen. I'm not a great writer, so any review would be amazing! Rated T because of drug use.
1. Table of Contents

**A/N: So basically, just a collection of various Sherlock drabbles. There are the very, very, _very _short, and then the simply short ones. I used all the letters of the alphabet and got a word via a random word generator. These definitely won't be posted in order, and I haven't finished all of them yet. Some of them kinda veered away from the prompt, but at least it still has the word in it, right? Right? Lots will be Johnlock, a couple might be sherlolly, and of course there are the no slash ones. Anyways, some are pretty badly written, sorry, but I would love any reviews. Constructive criticism would be amazing! Anyways, enjoy, R&R!**

**One more thing, since I'm not posting in order, I'll be putting a little asterisk next to the story I just posted, hopefully it'll make things easier to understand. **

A-artificial...Post-reunion Johnlock.  
>B-ballet...Kid!lock, sort of ballet!lock too I guess.<br>C-confinements...Sort of Sherlolly.  
>D-decrypted<br>E-edible  
>F-free...Uni!lock, no slash, warnings for drug use.<br>G-groceries...Pure fluff, and surprise Johnlock!  
>H-highlight<br>I-invisible...Post-fall but pre-reunion angst.  
>J-joyous<br>K-kindly  
>L-love<br>M-money  
>N-novices<br>O-once  
>P-phone...Sherlock's texts throughout the day.<br>Q-quieter  
>R-rapid-fire<br>S-song  
>*T-transparent... Anderson character study.<br>U-unfair...Post-reunion rambles from Sherlock's POV.  
>V-voice-activated<br>W-waterproof  
>X-xylophone<br>Y-yapping  
>Z-zesty<p> 


	2. A-artificial

**A/N: Post-reunion fanfic, but sort of an AU. Basically, if Mary had been more controlling and rude. And just overall an even more horrible person than she was, even in S3E3. Never forgive! (Spoilers.) Anyways, Johnlock forever! Thoughts are, as always, italicized. Ending is a bit cliche, but oh well!**

"Come on, wake up John."

John groaned, rolled over and said, "Sherlock, I'm way too tired to go on a case!"

"Honey, it's me! You know, your fiance? It's been two years since you did any of that stuff yet you still always think I'm him!" Mary said, shaking her head with a tiny smile on her face. "Now get up! You said we'd go out for breakfast today."

John looked up into Mary's face. Of course, Mary. His fiance. The love of his life... That's what Sherlock had called her. He'd looked so disappointed, so upset. Especially since Mary hadn't wanted him to solve cases with Sherlock. 'Too dangerous' she'd called it. Ever since Sherlock came back though, nothing felt the same.

"It's gonna end up being lunch if you keep laying there you know!" Mary yelled from the other room, interrupting his thoughts.

John sighed and said, "I'm getting up, just a moment!" John got up and grudgingly got ready. For some reason, everything he did and saw reminded him of one man.

_My best friend...no, more than that._ He didn't know what more. He always thought he was straight, but he knew Sherlock was more important. The feelings he had for Sherlock went beyond all those labels.

Everything passed in a blur. Getting ready, going out the door, even kissing Mary, all he could think about was Sherlock. They walked into the little cafe, and john realized he'd been here before with Sherlock. Mary got them a little corner table in the back, "For a bit of privacy," she said, giggling.

John smiled, but not at her. He realized he was wearing the jumper Sherlock had gotten him. John had been wearing jumpers less and less since he'd been apart from Sherlock. As he sat at the table, Mary kept on talking. She kept on making small talk, which was, as Sherlock said, useless.

He wondered what he felt for Mary. He thought he had loved her. But now, all those feelings, they felt so..._artificial_. John only loved one person, and he didn't care that it was a got up from the table and started slowly walking away, as if in a trance.

"Wait, John! What are you doing?" Mary cried, thoroughly shocked.

He turned back and put 20 quid on the table. "There, that should cover it." John said as he was walking out. Almost as a afterthought, he twisted off the ring on his finger and placed it next to the money. He felt so much lighter without it weighing him down, all those unspoken promises of love that he knew he would never feel for her.

Mary ran out after him, but he'd already gotten into a cab. As the cabbie asked him where to go to, he felt a jolt of nostalgia. John knew the address by heart, how could he ever forget?

"221B Baker Street please."

"Oh, are you another of those fans? They've been crowding around that man's house for quite a while, saying stuff like 'I'm sorry I doubted you!' Is that what you're gonna go do?" the cabbie asked, glancing back at him through the mirror.

John smiled. "Sort of, yes."

"Well you'd better be careful then! I heard he's been threatening to shoot the annoying ones. And I don't think he was kidding!" the cabbie exclaimed, eyes wide as he used his free hand to gesture wildly, as if trying to make the point stick.

John just laughed. _Sounds like Sherlock._ The whole cab ride, that's all he could think about.

_Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock..._

He got out in front of that all too familiar flat, stuffing a few notes into the driver's hands. The cabbie wasn't lying, there was a mob of fans outside wearing their little 'Sherlock' caps. They were all shouting their apologies to Sherlock up in the flat above.

"I don't care, just shut up!"

John could hear Sherlock yelling, eliciting a happy, genuine smile on the army doctor's face. He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled like that. John pushed through the crowd of people to the door and rang the doorbell.

Mrs. Hudson came out looking quite upset. "Would you people stop your- Oh, John! How lovely to see you, come in!" Mrs. Hudson looked fairly surprised to see him, he hadn't visited since Sherlock came back. "Sherlock, someone here to see you!" Mrs. Hudson yelled to him.

"Ooh, is it a case? It didn't sound like the right amount of pressure..." Sherlock muttered excitedly to himself, running down the stairs. He froze when he saw john. "O-oh, John...umm, would you like to come up?" He said, stumbling over his words.

"Of course, thank you." John said, smiling. He couldn't help but think how cute Sherlock was when he was unsure.

Walking into the flat, he felt a pang of sadness. It looked just like it had before anything happened, before those two years of hell. He looked at his chair and saw that it looked untouched. It had his favorite throw on it, like no one had sat in it since Sherlock moved back in.

" Here, I'll make some tea. So, umm...How's Mary doing? You know, your...fiance..." Sherlock sounded so sad and unsure of himself, doing his best to make small talk.

John couldn't hold it in any longer. He had to tell him his true feelings no matter what happened. "Sherlock, I...I love you." He said, looking at the ground.

Glass shattering.

John looked up immediately and said, "Sherlock, what's wrong? Are you ok?" He rushed to the detective, a familiar wave of concern washing over him.

"Yes of course, just dropped a teacup." Sherlock said, his face hidden.

"Here, I'll help." John said, picking up teacup fragments.

"Listen John, I...I mean I also...umm, never mind. It's, umm, nothing." Sherlock mumbled, his face still hidden behind a curtain of hair. It was the most disoriented he'd ever seen Sherlock. John smiled and lifted Sherlock's chin to reveal a bright red face.

"I know." John said, before leaning in to kiss him.


	3. B-ballet

** A/N: Kid!lock, absolutely not Holmescest. I wrote him as slightly more normal, but still very smart.**

Sherlock, at the tender age of 4, flipped through the book with wide eyes:_The History of Ballet; with pictures._

Sherlock skipped through all the words, not because he couldn't read, but because it was unbearably boring. Sherlock hated history. What was the use of it? History is absolutely useless after all.

Still, those pictures, they were so amazing. The grace with which these people moved and the extensions they reached were...elegant, for lack of a better word. Sherlock knew what he wanted to be when he grew up. Sherlock wanted to be a ballerina.

He carefully closed the book and lovingly put it in his special treasure box. It was his new treasure. Sherlock then left his room to go find Mycroft.

His brother was the one person he could really talk to. Everyone else treated him like a baby, like he was an idiot. Mycroft understood him though. He understood his abilities and even helped Sherlock refine them. Sherlock ran upstairs to find his brother texting on his phone and smiling. Sherlock wasn't allowed to have a phone yet, though he wasn't sure why. He was 4 already.

"Mycroft,mycroft!" Sherlock said, extremely excited.

Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock, I'm a bit busy. Some other time maybe."

"But My! I figured out what I'm going to be when I grow up. I'm gonna be a ballerina!"Sherlock exclaimed, looking very pleased with himself.

Now that caught Mycroft's attention. His head snapped up and he furrowed his brow. "You want to be a what? Why?" He asked, surprised.

"They're just so cool and beautiful!" Sherlock responded, nearly jumping up and down with joy.

"Listen Sherlock, I know you may want to be one, but you have to be realistic. You are a Holmes man. You cannot be a..._ballerina_." Mycroft said, attempting to bring the mini Sherlock back down to earth. He said the word ballerina with a certain spite, as if it was a dirty word.

Sherlock's face visibly fell and he looked to the ground. "Oh...I see. Sorry." He mumbled.

Mycroft's features softened and he bent down to Sherlock. "I'm sorry Sherlock. Listen, if it'll make you feel better you can read some of my books."

Sherlock brightened and immediately ran towards Mycroft's room. "Thank you My!" He yelled back as he raced down the hallway. Sherlock's face had still held some lingering disappointment, but he would get over it. He was a Holmes after all.

Mycroft smiled and resumed texting. After about half an hour he went to check up on Sherlock, who was engrossed in a pirate book.

"Mycroft, I changed my mind. I'm gonna be a pirate when I grow up!" He said happily.

Mycroft would've explained that pirates didn't really exist anymore, and also that it was illegal, but he didn't. Sherlock looked so happy reading that book that he couldn't bring himself to.

The elder Holmes just laughed and said, "Good for you, Sherlock. I'm sure you'll be a great pirate. Now go on back to your room. You can have that book too if you'd like."

Sherlock smiled and thanked Mycroft, going back to his room. He put his new possession in his little bookshelf. Sherlock took his treasure box and put it away, but didn't take out the book. It would always be his treasure, his little flare of a dream that never got lit. Mycroft seemed happy when he'd said he wanted to be a pirate, so that's what he would be. Sherlock would do anything to make Mycroft happy after all, because Mycroft was the only one who understood him and actually cared.


	4. C-confinements

**A/N:Based right off of 'The Empty Hearse'. If you haven't seen it yet, this probably won't make much sense. Sherlolly I guess... I don't really know. Anyways, enjoy!**

Molly looked at the beautiful man standing in front of her. She blushed a bit and couldn't help her heart speeding up. Molly hadn't seen him in 2 years, and if possible he'd gotten even more good-looking.

_No, I can't be like this! I can't be like how I was before._

Sherlock had gone into his mind palace, and it was quite a sight. Molly wondered why Sherlock had taken her with him. It was nice, spending time with the man she'd loved for so long. When he said she was fine just acting the way she always did, she couldn't help but feel happy. Those feelings though, they had to leave. She couldn't feel so happy around Sherlock anymore. She had to stop being in love with him. Molly sighed and absently twisted the ring on her finger. After all, what would Tom say?

Marriage comes with all sorts of rules and confinements. That's why she couldn't love Sherlock. She was married to a good man, a man who loved her very much. Tom would never be Sherlock though. She knew she'd always love that detective more than anyone. Still, she settled with a good man into the confinement of marriage. There was no room for Sherlock in there, no matter the feelings she still had.

_Goodbye, Sherlock..._


	5. E-edible

**A/N: Just a little piece of fluff. Enjoy!**

"So John, are you doing anything tonight?" Sherlock asked, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

"Oh, actually yeah. I was going to go out for dinner with Jane. Why do you ask?" he replied, not glancing up from his book.

Sherlock's face fell for a moment before he could compose himself. _Of course he has a date, it is Saturday night. Why am I so surprised?_ John noticed Sherlock's split-second hesitation. He wasn't able to read most people's faces, but he'd gotten accustomed to Sherlock's rare flashes of emotion.

"It's nothing." Sherlock said curtly, turning his face away slightly.

"Sherlock...were you planning something?" John asked, his curiosity piqued. Sherlock simply shook his head and went into his room, shutting the door a tad bit harder than necessary.

John looked around the room and saw an open cookbook on the table. It was open to a pasta dish that he'd never seen before. The page had a tab on it with today's date written in Sherlock's hand writing. John let out an involuntary sound of surprise. _Sherlock was cooking? For me? _

He sighed and dialed in a call on his phone. "I'm sorry Jane, I don't think I can make the date tonight...Why? Well, I've got other plans...Yes, I suppose it does involve him. Well, I've gotta go now. Goodbye!"

John chuckled. He doubted he'd be seeing Jane again. John knocked softly on Sherlock's door. "Hey, my plans with Jane fell through. Well, I may have canceled them, but the point is, you wanna do something?"

Sherlock emerged from the room, still sulking slightly."I suppose...I was thinking of making dinner." He grumbled.

They both wandered into the kitchen, but Sherlock banned John from the kitchen until he was done. After an hour of hearing various crashes and curses from the kitchen, Sherlock emerged. He had little dots of flour and sauce all over his clothes and hair, John couldn't help but smile.

"Ok, its done now."

Sherlock served them up on their better china, the one that Mrs. Hudson won't let him use for experiments. John tentatively took a bite and was pleasantly surprised.

"Wow Sherlock, its actually edible. In fact, its actually really good!" John said.

Sherlock laughed a bit. "I resent that. Recipes are pretty similar to chemical formulas anyways."

"So, what's the special occasion? I don't think you'd cook for no reason." John said, still pretty confused.

"You forgot? Its our 2 year anniversary for being flatmates!" Sherlock said, as if it was so obvious.

John laughed and said, "Of course! How could I forget? How about a toast to being flatmates?" As their glasses clinked together and Sherlock smiled, John felt a strange warm feeling in his chest. As he smiled back, he felt more at home than he ever did before.


	6. F-free

**A/N: Man, I haven't updated in a while, sorry bout that! The pace of this is pretty fast, so it's not exactly the smoothest story, oops. Anyways, just some good, old-fashioned uni!lock. Enjoy!**

Sherlock walked the halls of this new, unfamiliar place. He thought he'd never get to uni, Mycroft would never stop worrying. He even suggested Sherlock stay and be home-schooled, but obviously Sherlock refused. He couldn't stand another minute in that stuffy house with his brother.

Sherlock looked around as he walked, taking in all the sights. It was a very prestigious school, but it was in a bit of a decline. He could tell by the dull finish on the school statue and the poorly attended-to flower beds.

He got to the room he was staying at and entered, not bothering to knock. His new dorm mate was already in there, and as soon as Sherlock came in he jumped up from his spot on the desk. The man was average height with plain brown eyes and carefully styled brown hair, overall the type of guy you wouldn't look twice at on the streets.

"Hiiii!~ My name is Jim Moriarty, and I guess I'm your new roommate! We're gonna have so much fun!" He said, smiling languidly and extending a hand.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and ignored the proffered hand. He hated people like this.

Jim laughed and said, "Oh come on, don't be such a drag! Here, you want some of this?"

Jim pulled out a little bag full of a white powder. Sherlock immediately knew what it was, he wasn't stupid after all. Sherlock smirked at the man, looking down at the far shorter man with obvious disgust in his eyes.

"I'm not stupid enough that I need drugs to make me happy." Sherlock said.

"Oh come now, don't you want to live a little? Ignore your family's expectations, break the rules! Think of it as an experiment. Just go ahead and try it, just a liiiiitle bit!~" he said, giggling.

Sherlock hesitated. He wanted to be free, free of all these things. Not just free of Mycroft, but free of all the things in his head. Sherlock reached out hesitantly and took the bag. Jim giggled some more and handed him a razor.

"Just think of it as an experiment!" He said, smiling.

Sherlock sectioned off a little bit with a razor and let it sit for a second. It's just an experiment... That's what he thought as the drugs entered his system. He collapsed onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Sherlock felt his brain slowing down and felt so normal, for once. He felt free, free from the expectation, free from being so different. _Free... _

Jim Moriarty smiled at the sight. Sherlock laying on the bed, blood slowly dripping from his nose. This had been far too easy, he was expecting more of a challenge from the great "Sherlock Holmes". In the end, he was quite ordinary just like the rest of them. Ah well, onto the next challenge...


	7. G-groceries

**A/N: All fluffy! When I started writing it, I meant it to be no slash, but then Johnlock kinda happened. Yep, it happens.**

"John, I need them!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"We had an agreement Sherlock. No more cigarettes! You were quitting." John said, watching Sherlock practically tear his hair out.

"Well I'm going back on that now! John please, I must have them!"

John sighed. "All you need is something to take your mind off of it. Hey, I've been needing to get some more groceries, why don't you come with?"

"Groceries!? Why would I want to go on such a menial, boring task?" Sherlock grumbled, flopping onto the couch like a pouting child.

"Would you rather stay and watch Connie Price with Mrs Hudson?" John asked.

Sherlock seemed to think for a few seconds before replying, "Point taken. Come on, let's get going." He had grabbed his coat and was nearly out the door before John could react.

"Wait, Sherlock! I need to change my jumper first, I can't go out in this one." John exclaimed, jumping up from his usual chair.

"Why would you need to change it, it's just fine!" Sherlock said, exasperated.

"This is a Christmas jumper Sherlock! It's already May. I can't wear it now!"

Sherlock sighed and shut the door.

"John, you know I think you look fine in anything you wear." Sherlock said with a smirk.

John turned his face away slightly and said "What, so you think that I only care about impressing you?"

Sherlock's grin grew even wider. "Is that why you're blushing, John?"

"I can just not take you you know." John retorted, blushing even more furiously.

Sherlock replied by simply laughing, his deep baritone chuckles filling the flat. Sherlock laughing was a rare occurrence, and John savored the sound of it.

Once John had changed, they headed out the door. "I really hope that this new store I'm trying doesn't have automated checkout things, I hate those. Thanks to a certain someone we are banned from our usual grocery store."

Sherlock looked at him with his 'innocent face'. "Oh come now, you know that manager deserved it." he said.

John rolled his eyes." You didn't have to take off his toupee!"

Sherlock shrugged and seemed to think for a couple minutes.

"It was funny though."

John chuckled and reached up to grab his coat collar.

"Oh, shut up." he said before rising on his toes to kiss his partner.


	8. I-invisible

** A/N: Post-Reichenbach, but still pre-reunion. I guess it'd be an AU. Extremely short and angsty.**

When John was with Sherlock, he was in the light. He was truly living. John was in a dark place before he met Sherlock, and Sherlock was the one that pulled him out of that. Being with Sherlock, solving cases with him, made him feel so alive. More alive than he'd ever been, even when he was serving in Afghanistan.

He was in the spotlight, and not just in the papers. It wasn't just the cases either. Sherlock truly needed someone, no, he needed _John_ to help him. John felt needed and important, like he really had something to live for.

But now it's all gone. Sherlock is gone. That meaning, that light in his life, died when Sherlock jumped. Mycroft had said something once: "When you walk with Sherlock Holmes you see a battlefield."

He was right, but that's gone. Now when he walked those same streets, there was nothing. He was invisible. No one saw him, no one noticed him. No one cared, because he was just another person. Just another invisible person, with nothing left to fill the void in his life.

That's all he could think of as he lay in bed with an empty bottle of pills next to him.

**A/N: Haha, sorry. I have a tendency to kill off my characters. It just makes things easier to tie up... Endings are hard.**


	9. P-phone

**A/N: Yeah, just my bad attempt at humorous fluff... Implied Mystrade I guess, and Johnlock if you squint really hard. I got the Mrs. Hudson thing from John's blog, I love reading the comments! Anyways, enjoy.**

When will you be home? -SH

Why, do you need something?  
>-JW<p>

Bored. -SH

Is there nothing you can do for Lestrade or down at the morgue? -JW

I don't think so. I'll check. -SH

Okay, well if you really need to know I'll be home about 6-ish. Don't get into any trouble. -JW 

o-o-o-o-o-o

Lestrade, any cases? -SH

No Sherlock, unless you want to help with traffic violations.

Fine then. Text me when you've got a good murder. -SH

Oh, by the way, your brother wants to talk to you.

What are you, his little messenger? Tell him I'm not interested. -SH

He said it was of utmost importance and to call him.

I don't call. And sorry for interrupting you and Mycroft's date. -SH

We weren't on a date! And he sounded very urgent. Just text him.

Sherlock, hello?

Sherlock? 

o-o-o-o-o-o

Molly. -SH

Oh, Sherlock! How are you? -Molly

Is there anything at the morgue that I can do? -SH

I don't think so, it's been pretty uneventful, why do you ask? -Molly

Bored. -SH

Well if you'd like to maybe catch a quick lunch, that might take your mind off things!-Molly

No, still boring. -SH

Oh, I see. Umm, well I suppose I'll talk to you later! -Molly 

o-o-o-o-o-o

Please stop being so childish Sherlock. -M

I'll do that when you stop stuffing your face with cake, brother dear. -SH

At least answer my calls, you know I prefer not to text. -M

Exactly. -SH

Really Sherlock, just listen to me. I could just come over there. -M

Oh, and take precious time out of your day? I'm touched. -SH

I will just go to your flat. -M

Go ahead, do whatever pleases you. I won't listen anyway, it'd be a waste of time.-SH 

o-o-o-o-o-o

Sherlock, was that an explosion I heard up there? -Marie Turner

Ooh, sorry, this is Marie's phone. This is Mrs. Hudson. -Marie Turner

Yes it was an explosion, just an experiment. More to the point, why are you texting me? -SH

I just figured out this whole texting thing, it's quite fun! Oh, I hear John at the door. Well, text you later! -Marie Turner

Finally... -SH


	10. T-transparent

**A/N: Sort of an Anderson character study thing, just a little drabble. I think seeing Anderson's gradual descent from complete arrogance in season 1 to a type of, well, almost madness in season 3 was fascinating. This is before the fall, but it could be interpreted as after I suppose. Reviews would be beautiful, please enjoy!**

Anderson was proud of what he did, helping to solve crimes. It was a good job with good benefits, and he respected the people he worked with.

He always thought that he was reasonably intelligent.

He was married to a great woman and was having an affair with a fantastic woman.

Anderson was happy. He was safe. He had some secrets, but he'd never tell them.

Anderson wasn't all that ambitious, he didn't need any change. His whole life was enveloped in a content feel, just being fine with the way things were.

Yeah, Anderson had a good, normal life.

This all changed when he met that strange enigma of a man, Sherlock Holmes. He stormed onto cases acting like he was better than anyone else because frankly, he was. He put stuff together in a blink of an eye, picking up impossibly small details that Anderson, or anyone really, would never be able to see. Anderson likened him to a hurricane, a whirlwind of deductions and sharp remarks that left everyone frozen, transfixed even as it disappeared, leaving nothing but wreckage behind.

All of Anderson's "secrets", he saw right away. His affair? Spotted in a second. It's as if he were transparent, he could keep nothing hidden. That feeling he used to have, where he felt safe in his small, content world, was destroyed by the storm that was Sherlock Holmes.

Whenever Anderson tried to stand up, to let this crazy man know that he wasn't entirely incompetent, he felt like a first grader again. When Sherlock looked at him, it felt like he saw right through him, as if Anderson was just a collection of horrifying facts and secrets. It made Anderson want to hide, because he could never be on the same level as Sherlock.

The disruption of their normal, content lives by this unknown man, it scared people. It made them hate Sherlock. Anderson didn't know how to deal with this new factor, Sherlock Holmes. So, he just did what everyone else did.

Anderson called Sherlock a freak. He hated him because he was afraid of him. He insulted him because he didn't want to feel so transparent. He would lash out when insulted by him. He would call Sherlock a psychopath, just like everyone else.

Deep down though, he couldn't quash his true thoughts, the ones that didn't fit in with the "Anderson" everyone knew.

Yeah, Anderson was Sherlock's biggest fan.


	11. U-unfair

**A/N:Just some post-reunion rambles. Disregarding HLV of course, one-sided Johnlock.**

Sherlock lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He needed a case more than ever, and it was not just to relieve his boredom. He could care less about his boredom, there was only one thing he cared about anymore. _John..._

Sherlock just couldn't go back to how things were before. Before he met John, the cases were all that mattered to him. He didn't mind the crushing loneliness in his heart, for he'd never known any different. Sherlock filled the emptiness in his heart with drugs and murders.

When John came into his life, it was as if a light came on in his world. Everything he did seemed better, brighter with john in it. All those times, he felt something growing in his chest, a deep and beautiful love. No, perhaps it was always in him, John simply gave it a reason for being.

When Sherlock left, when he "died", he could only think of John. The only thing that motivated him, kept that light in his life was the thought of returning to John. When he saw John in that restaurant, he'd felt more than overjoyed.

Sherlock was not blinded by love though, he could see what was happening. The woman, the ring box, john's nervous sweating. He had to stop this from happening. He had to, but he couldn't. John loved Mary. He lived with her now, and Sherlock was alone yet again.

Sherlock didn't _want _to go back to the way he lived before. Now that he'd felt how it was like to live with that light, he couldn't live without it. John was gone, and the only time he ever saw him was when he got a case. The flow of cases had been slower since he came back though. Perhaps they didn't trust him, or perhaps they had learned to get on without him while he was gone.

So Sherlock lay there for days, languishing in not boredom, but heartbreak. He wasted away slowly, not eating, barely drinking. Never sleeping, just staring at the blank ceiling. He ignored Mrs. Hudson's worrying, waving her away. He had barely moved since the last time John had left.

Sherlock just wanted to lay there forever, although he knew that wouldn't happen. He knew that as soon as he saw John, everything would change. He would want to move. His thirst would be renewed, his hunger for life replenished. Sherlock would want to live because, how could he not? How could he not want to live in a world that had such a perfect being in it? But as soon as john left, it would happen again. He would wither, a flower shunning the sunlight. This vicious cycle, this circle ringing so closely around living and dying, would never stop.

It was unfair, being forced to live on the brink of madness.

Sherlock sighed. _Why can't it just stop, why can't it be over... _That was what he thought as he heard a familiar, perfect voice call his name.


End file.
